


Shear Magnetism

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Haircuts, M/M, Mildly Cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Erik owns a gentleman's hairdressing salon and Charles is his favourite customer (who Erik might have a crush on).</p><p> <br/>A fic written in honour of Charles's amazing 80's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shear Magnetism

The bell over the doorway rang out cheerfully, announcing the arrival of a new customer to the _Shear Magnetism_ gentleman’s haircutting salon. Erik glanced up from where he had been scrutinising his trainee Alex’s handiwork with narrowed eyes, and then blinked when he saw who it was that had entered through the door.

‘Erik!’ Charles beamed at him from the doorway, looking ridiculously pleased to see him. ‘I was hoping you would be working today.’

Erik just stared, feeling slightly bemused. The scruffy, long-haired man standing before him was definitely Charles, but he looked very different to the person who had first entered his shop almost two years ago. 

Charles had always been well-dressed and exquisitely groomed, and his very first visit to the salon had been no different. He hadn’t been at all Erik’s usual sort of customer and at first Erik had not taken to him very favourably: while Charles had been happy to chatter on merrily to his brusque, taciturn hairdresser about anything and everything, Erik himself had done nothing but frown the whole time. He had responded in short, clipped sentences, loudly broadcasting _don’t talk to me_ the entire time, and had turned a deaf ear to most of Charles’s chatter. He had naturally been genuinely surprised when Charles had strolled in again a few short weeks later, demanding another trim and waiting patiently for Erik to be free to attend to him. 

The visits had continued after that – sometimes Charles would come in requiring a trim, at other times simply a bit of styling – and these calls only got more frequent over time; so much so that Erik, though bemused by this strange and unlooked-for patronage, had set up a special type of discount especially for Charles. He knew quite well that Charles could easily afford their usual rates (Charles had revealed as much during their second meeting whilst in the midst of a truly ridiculous story about a horse and a racing car) but Erik’s sense of honour would not allow him to overcharge for what was basically a glorified bit of styling; Charles, after all, never left home without looking anything less than impeccable. 

Somehow, over the weeks and months, Erik had found that he and Charles had inexplicably become friendly and, despite the fact that they only saw each other in a professional setting, Erik soon discovered that Charles was quite possibly the closest thing he had to a friend.

Or at least, he had thought so until three months ago, when Charles had abruptly stopped coming to him.

Taking a deep breath, Erik crossed his arms over his chest and met his friend’s gaze. ‘Charles,’ he said neutrally. ‘It’s been a while.’ His eyes lingered pointedly on the long, bedraggled hair, the sight of which was enough to make him shudder. 

Charles blinked and lifted a hand to his hair self-consciously. ‘Ah yes,’ he gave Erik a sheepish smile. ‘I rather suppose it has.’ 

Erik, who had expected something more of an explanation, just stood there staring at him for a moment. It was only when Alex paused in the middle of his haircut to give him a pointed look that Erik came back to himself. Narrowing his eyes at Alex, he then turned to look at Charles. ‘You look … different,’ he said, narrowly avoiding saying something less diplomatic.

Charles laughed at that. ‘Don’t worry, you can say it. I look like shit.’ His eyes twinkled before he turned his attention to Erik’s appearance. He raked his eyes up and down Erik’s torso in a way that made something in Erik’s stomach wriggle, before finally settling on Erik’s t-shirt. He smiled. ‘Spandau Ballet, Erik?’ he murmured, a teasing glint entering his eyes. ‘I didn’t know you were a fan.’

Erik let out a grunt. ‘It’s old,’ he said, wrinkling his nose a little. It had been a gift from a misguided girlfriend several years ago after he had unthinkingly let slip that he was a fan of 80’s music. ‘I was in a rush and this was the first thing I got my hands on.’

‘Oh, no need to justify it,’ Charles said airily, grinning from ear to ear. ‘I mean, who doesn’t like a bit of Spandau every now and then?’

‘Anyone with taste for a start,’ Erik drawled. 

‘So not you then?’

Erik glared at him, although not with any real weight. ‘Watch it,’ he warned, even as he felt something inside him relax at this return to normalcy after the break in between. He then caught the curious glance Alex that sent his way and decided to change the subject. ‘So,’ he said, looking Charles over, his gaze again drawn to the lank, bedraggled hair. He quirked an eyebrow. ‘I’m guessing that you came here for a haircut?’ 

Charles grinned. ‘Well it is a little long,’ he said with a shrug. 

Erik watched him for a few moments before sighing. ‘Come on then,’ he said gruffly, jerking his head toward a free station on the other end from Alex and his customer. ‘Let’s cut that ridiculous thing off.’

‘I hope you’re talking about my hair and not my head,’ Charles laughed as he followed Erik. ‘My head may be ridiculous but it’s pretty and I’m quite certain that I need it.’

Erik snorted. Feeling his mood lighten further despite himself, he set about getting Charles settled into the chair, ensuring his neck and shoulders were properly covered by a black gown, before standing back and meeting Charles’s eyes in the mirror.

‘So,’ he said. ‘What do you want?’

‘Well – a haircut, obviously.’

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be idiotic,’ he said, although his lips twitched. ‘What style would you like? How short do you want it?’

Charles thought for a few moments. ‘You know,’ he said slowly. ‘I really have no idea.’

Erik’s eyebrow rose at this. Charles always knew what he wanted – especially when it came to his hair.

Charles was eyeing himself in the mirror. ‘Maybe I should cut it all off,’ he mused, picking up a pair of scissors from the counter and looking at his reflection speculatively. ‘I think I could pull off the bald look, don’t you think?’ 

Erik felt a jolt of horror at the thought of shaving off all of Charles’s hair. ‘No,’ he said firmly, shaking his head. ‘I really don’t.’

Charles still wasn’t convinced. ‘I think I would look rather dashing,’ he said, considering. He then shrugged. ‘And even if I don’t I can always wear a hairpiece.’

Erik shuddered. ‘A hairpiece was never an option,’ he said stiffly, plucking the scissors out of Charles’s hands and deliberately setting it down as far away from Charles’s grasp as possible. ‘Now be serious. How short do you want this?’

Charles bit his lip, still looking into the mirror. Then he sighed. ‘Surprise me,’ he said, waving a hand carelessly.

Erik narrowed his eyes. ‘What?’ he said blankly.

‘Just – do whatever you think is best,’ Charles said, closing his eyes. ‘I trust you.’

Erik felt something flutter in his ribcage at that but he forcefully pushed it aside. ‘You’re giving me permission to do whatever I want?’ he said, still disbelieving. ‘To cut your hair however I see fit?’

Charles paused. Then he shrugged. ‘Have at it,’ he said, leaning back trustingly in the chair. ‘Knock yourself out. I’m sure whatever you do will look a great deal better than the look I’m currently sporting.’

‘I don’t know,’ Erik said dryly, scrutinising the ragged mop of hair. ‘I suppose it has its own charms.’

Charles let out a snort. ‘Oh come off it, Erik,’ he said, peeking up at him. ‘I know you must be itching to get rid of it.’

 _You’re not wrong_ , Erik thought wryly. He thought for a minute and then grinned. ‘Alright,’ he said, ‘I’ll do it. And you’ll settle for whatever cut I give you, yes?’

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed immediately. He then caught sight of Erik’s toothy grin. ‘As long as it’s not _too_ hideous, of course,’ he hastened to add.

Erik smirked. Then, taking up a comb, he leaned forward and started to work.

Ten minutes in, his curiosity finally got the better of him. ‘So what brought this on?’ he asked Charles, eyes still fixed firmly on his work. ‘The long hair, I mean. I would never have expected you of all people to go for the homeless look, Charles.’

Charles shrugged, rousing himself from a private reverie. ‘I just wanted a bit of a change,’ he said smoothly, his tone light. His eyes met Erik’s in the mirror and then he sighed. ‘Alright, a _big_ change then.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘I never took you to be a man of extremes, Charles,’ he murmured.

‘Oh, I’m not,’ Charles agreed readily. He then shrugged. ‘I am, however, a great advocate of passive resistance.’

Erik’s brow furrowed. ‘What exactly were you resisting?’ he asked, frowning

Charles opened his mouth and then shut it again. He bit his lip, for the first time looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Scott said I was vain,’ he said at last, sounding reluctant. ‘He said that I was much too concerned with my looks and that I paid far too much attention to my hair and not enough to him.’

‘How unreasonable of him,’ Erik drawled.

‘I know!’ Charles waved his hand broadly. ‘My hair is magnificent and, quite frankly, none of his concern.’ Charles shrugged. ‘Anyway, after he said that I decided to prove him wrong.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘And you decided to do this by not washing your hair?’

Charles rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I washed my hair,’ he said impatiently. ‘I just didn’t cut it or style it.’ He paused. ‘Or rather, I didn’t have _you_ cut it or style it.’

‘Yes,’ Erik said dryly. ‘I noticed.’

Charles’s eyes shot up at that, and he met Erik’s gaze in the mirror. ‘Why Erik,’ he purred. ‘Did you miss me?’

Erik shrugged. ‘I had intended to get a new coffee maker for the break room,’ he said lightly, tugging gently at a length of hair and trimming it. ‘I had to table the idea after you stopped coming here.’

Charles pouted. ‘You only love me for my money,’ he sighed dramatically, but there was a smile on his lips.

Erik opened his mouth to respond but then quickly shut it again. If Charles noticed, he didn’t say anything.

‘So,’ Erik said after an awkward pause. He forced himself to ask the question that had been eating at him. ‘How is he anyway? Your … boyfriend?’ he finished lamely.

Charles blinked. ‘Scott, you mean?’ he asked, tilting his head up only for Erik to seize his head and forcibly straighten it. ‘Yeah … we broke up.’

Erik paused in the middle of adjusting Charles’s neck. ‘You did?’ he asked, surprised at the satisfaction that he felt upon hearing that. ‘When did this happen?’

Charles considered and then glanced thoughtfully at his watch. ‘I’d say … roughly three quarters of an hour ago?’

Erik blinked. His hands fell down to his sides. ‘Charles …’ he began, his tone serious.

‘Oh no, no, don’t worry,’ Charles fluttered a hand dismissively. ‘It’s alright, I’m not upset or anything. It was a long time coming, to be honest. Scott and I … it never really worked. I just stayed with him because …’ Charles shrugged. ‘I don’t know. As a place-marker I suppose.’

‘A place-marker?’ Erik frowned, not understanding.

‘Well – you know,’ Charles was suddenly looking down into his lap. ‘Just – something to tide me over until something better came along.’

Erik paused. Charles glanced up at him and, mistaking Erik’s expression, hurried to add, ‘Don’t worry, it was the same for him. We pretty much admitted that we’d known it all along.’

Erik shook himself. ‘Still,’ he said gruffly. ‘He sounds like an asshole.’

Charles smiled at that. ‘You know,’ he said, lips twitching. ‘He kind of was.’

They settled into a comfortable silence after that. Erik spent the next half an hour cutting and styling, while Charles all but dozed off in his chair, Erik’s gentle movements weaving their usual spell over his senses.

At last, Erik set down his scissors with a sigh and stepped back. ‘There,’ he murmured, eyes glinting in satisfaction. ‘We’re done.’

Charles blinked at that, suddenly coming back to himself. Shaking his head, he sat up in his chair and finally turned to look fully into the mirror.

He stared.

Erik watched, grinning, as Charles’s mouth moved soundlessly.

‘I…’

Erik’s grin widened.

‘I have …’

Erik leaned forward.

‘I … I have 80’s hair,’ Charles said blankly. He looked truly shocked.

The grin slid off Erik’s face. ‘It’s only temporary,’ he said quickly, seizing his scissors and moving forward, mentally kicking himself for attempting something so ridiculous. ‘I’ll cut it properly now. I just – I thought with the Spandau Ballet thing,’ he gestured limply at his t-shirt, ‘I – I thought it would be … funny.’ He cringed at his words and watched Charles warily, his face burning with mortification.

Charles, however, was still staring at his mirror, his eyes wide. ‘I have 80’s hair,’ he said again. This time it was more urgent. ‘Erik, I have _80’s hair_.’

‘Yes,’ Erik gritted his teeth, clutching his scissors tightly in his hand. ‘Yes, yes, I – I’m sorry.’

Charles blinked. Then he whirled around. ‘Sorry?’ he repeated, his eyes wide. ‘Erik, this is _amazing_.’

Erik stared. ‘What?’ he asked incredulously. 

‘Erik, I have 80’s hair,’ Charles said happily. ‘I love it!’

Erik stared at him. ‘You do?’ he said, bemused.

‘Oh yeah,’ Charles beamed at him. ‘Who wouldn’t? I’d always thought that I could rock the Miami Vice look, and now I _know_.’ 

Erik still looked uncertain. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, frowning. ‘Because I was only joking, Charles, I was going to cut it shorter—’ He reached out for Charles’s hair but Charles quickly dodged his hand.

‘Don’t you dare,’ he said primly. ‘I wanted a surprise and I got it and you’re not taking it away from me now.’ His expression softened when he saw Erik’s expression. ‘Truly Erik, I love it. I want to keep it.’

‘Well … if you’re certain,’ Erik said doubtfully. 

‘I am.’ Charles smiled at him, his voice firm. Then his face dropped a little. ‘Unless …’ his eyes flickered down to Erik’s t-shirt. ‘Unless – _you_ don’t like it?’ He sounded uncertain, and Erik was surprised by the sudden realisation that his approval actually meant something to Charles. ‘If you think it’s terrible then I guess I—’

‘I love it,’ Erik said abruptly, surprising even himself. He blinked and then, looking at Charles, realised it was true. ‘It looks good,’ he said honestly, meeting Charles’s eyes. His gaze then dipped down to his t-shirt. ‘Besides,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘who doesn’t like a bit of Spandau every now and then?’

Charles eyes brightened and he let out a laugh of delight. ‘People with taste, I hear,’ he answered archly, unable to stop smiling.

‘Yes well,’ Erik moved forward, his hands coming up to play gently with the ends of Charles’s hair. ‘I don’t see anyone like that around here, do you?’

‘Speak for yourself, asshole,’ Alex muttered from his spot across the room, but Erik and Charles were too busy grinning at each other to notice.


End file.
